


back to you

by whaticameherefor



Series: Reignite Our Love [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Welcome to Angst City, a bad one, archie andrews and veronica lodge are the voices of reason, mentions of other/past relationships, so you know shit's pretty dire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 14:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15974546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whaticameherefor/pseuds/whaticameherefor
Summary: Just because the circumstances were different this time around didn’t mean the end result wouldn’t be the same. He needed to convince himself that he didn’t want it — that he didn’t wanther.For his own survival, he tried to remind himself of the agony that came along with loving Betty Cooper.But the reasons don’t matter anymore. The excuses no longer seem to suffice. There’s no logical explanation for why they can’t just get their shit together. Not when he looks at her likethatand not when it make herfeellike this.





	back to you

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you to my beautiful betas @writeraquamarinara and @bugggghead. Never change!
> 
> So, let me start by saying - sorry not sorry. I heard this song, “Back to you” by Selena Gomez, had this idea, and then I had to do it. It was painful for me to write, so hopefully you enjoy this bit of angst. Read the tags and weep. Happy ~~hurting~~ reading!

* * *

Jughead Jones sits on a stool with his back to the room in an attempt to block out the rest of the world at the very end of the bar in the White Wyrm. He shakes his head bitterly as he stares at the glass of amber liquid on the bartop in front of him, his right hand wrapped around the tumbler, rubbing his thumb up and down the condensation on the side.

He hates the taste of whiskey. But it’s a means to an end. The end, on this particular night, is the same one he drinks to many nights - forgetting Betty Cooper. While he never quite developed a taste for the bitter drink, he much prefers it to that of the bile that fills his mouth whenever he thinks of his very own Hitchcock blonde.

Tonight, however, is a special occasion; so he’s downing each serving with a little too much fervor. He had come face to face with the woman who haunts his dreams. The ghost that keeps him up most nights. The reason the bags under his eyes have been turning an ever increasingly darker shade of purple over time.

Jughead brings the glass to his mouth and lets the alcohol slip past his lips, trying to keep his throat open to get it down the hatch without having to endure too much of the flavor. He grimaces anyway and slams the empty glass back down on the bar top. He raises his hand up, extending his index finger to the bartender, signaling that he wants another.

Toni walks over with the bottle in hand and pours a finger’s worth into the glass. Jughead shakes his head and motions with a wave for her to keep going. Sighing, she tips the bottle up one more time. After he nods when the amount is sufficient, she grabs the ice scoop and drops a few cubes into the liquid with a splash. He raises two fingers to his forehead in mock salute and she walks away with a roll of the eyes.

He picks up the whiskey and swirls it around a few times to encourage the ice to melt. Nothing left to do but wait. And think. He watches as the ice in his drink dissolves, diluting the taste of the whiskey, and lets out a low, humorless laugh when he realizes there’s a metaphor there.

It had been years since he had the torturous pleasure of her presence. He hadn’t really had a say in the matter, it was his best friend’s graduation, after all - and a whole semester early at that. Jughead had no idea how Archie managed to do it, but it was a milestone that deserved to be celebrated. Archie had warned him that she was going to be there and he went anyway, like a fool. Archie had wanted all of his best friends with him and for that, Jughead couldn’t begrudge him. But that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

Leading up to tonight, he had somehow fooled himself into thinking the years had watered down his feelings for her. He thought that tonight would be different — they wouldn’t let themselves slip back into the vicious cycle they always found themselves in. The last time they were together it had almost broken him and he wasn’t sure he could suffer through it all over again and live to tell the tale. He had successfully managed to avoid interacting with her for nearly two years. He’d thought he had made strides in his mission to move on.

_He walked into the lobby of the Pembrooke with his head held high. He stopped for a minute to take in his surroundings and made a note of the people he wouldn’t hate having to converse with during the night._

_And then he saw her._

_He knew the moment their eyes locked across the room that if he thought he would be able to resist her, he was a damned fool. She was dressed in a floor length, spaghetti strap pink dress that highlighted every part of the body that he drank to forget. Her golden hair was down, curled loosely and mussed over all onto one side. His hands formed fists to prevent himself from reaching out to touch her._

_He walked over to congratulate Archie and made small talk for as long as he could stand it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her watching him. She was going to drive him crazy._

_He strode over to her, wanting to get the whole nasty business out of the way as quickly as possible. Say hello, act cordial for five minutes, then ignore her the rest of the evening. He could do this. He had to. It was the best option — no —the_ only _option._

_Best laid plans and all that._

_“Hey, Juggie.” Hearing his name, especially that version of his name on her lips brought him crashing down to earth. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought._

_“Hey, Betts.” He glanced around, searching for her companion that she usually used as armor against him. Whoever it happened to be now. “Where’s what’s his name?”_

_“You know his name,” she muttered, shaking her head softly._

_“Do I?” His eyebrow raised defiantly._

_She lowered her head in answer, letting the silence speak volumes. “He’s not here,” she supplied finally. She worried her lip for a moment before she brought her face back up to meet his. “We uh - we broke up. A while back.”_

_Jughead felt his heart drop to his feet, but he ensured his face gave away no emotion when he said, “Oh, well, I’m sorry to hear that.”_

_“No,” her lips curled into a mirthless smile, “You’re not.”_

_“No,” he repeated, mirroring her expression, stepping closer to capture her wrist with his hand, massaging her pulse point with his thumb. “I’m not.”_

_It hadn’t even been a full five minutes and he was already falling back into bad habits._

_Remembering himself, he dropped her hand and took a step back. He should have known better. Should have known that no matter how long it had been since he last set his eyes on her, whenever they found themselves next to each other, there was this unexplainable pull toward the other. Despite that, every word they spoke built up to the inevitable moment of heartbreak all over again._

_Just because the circumstances were different this time around didn’t mean the end result wouldn’t be the same. He needed to convince himself that he didn’t want it — that he didn’t want_ her _. For his own survival, he tried to remind himself of the agony that came along with loving Betty Cooper._

_But when he looked at her again, he knew it was all for naught. He knew he would take the pain three times over if it meant another minute alone with her. He took a step back towards her._

_He’d always go back to her._

A boisterous crowd hollering at the pool table brings him back to the present. He feels a warm body slither up next to him and he fixes his stare down into his glass, hoping he gets his point across.

Any other night he probably would have turned toward the woman, flashed her one of his signature shit-eating grins, and offered to buy her a drink. She was perky and blonde — the type he usually went for on nights when he had more than enough whiskey to trick himself into thinking it could be _her_.

(On nights when he was feeling particularly lonely, any warm body would do.)

Regardless of who he happened to take to bed that night, his thoughts always drifted to _her_. Those big green eyes and soft pink lips. The curves of her hips, breasts, and ass pushing him over the edge without fail each time.

After he was sated and spent, it was always Betty who he wanted to be holding in his arms, even when he was laying close to someone else.

But tonight was not just any other night. He couldn’t trick himself into thinking anyone other than the vision in pink he’d been with earlier in the night would ever be enough. He didn’t want solace. He wanted to revel in his loneliness. Stew in his own misery.

Besides, it was that particular brand of escapism that got him into this whole mess in the first place.

Mercifully, the woman takes the hint, huffing as she saunters off. He grabs his drink and downs it angrily, ice cubes clinking against the glass as it hits the surface. His other hand forms a fist and he bangs it on the bar to get his friend’s attention.

“Haven’t you had enough, Jones?”

“I’m a big boy, Topaz. I know when I’ve had enough. Another.”

“Jughead,” she says, her voice and eyes softening, “Seriously, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

The air is thick with smoke around them, his head just as heavy and hazy as the clouded room. Jughead takes a breath trying to bring in enough air to get the next few words out evenly. “I saw her tonight.”

Toni’s eyes flash with an emotion he can’t really name. Pity, maybe. Pity probably doesn’t even begin to cover it. She considers him for a moment and fills his glass again, resigned.

“Good man,” he says when she slides the drink back over to him.

***

Archie Andrews walks through the front door of the Wyrm, scanning the sea of black leather and flannel for a gray crown beanie that sets his best friend apart from the rest of the crowd. He spots the man sitting at the bar and starts to make his way over. He catches Toni’s eye and sends her a wave in thanks. After his fifth shot of whisky, she had texted Archie that his boy was in a bad way and that he should get down here. So here he was. Even though it was the night of his graduation party. In the middle of the night. Because Archie was a good guy and he’d always be there to bring Jughead back from the brink.

When he reaches his old friend, he clasps a hand on his shoulder and slips onto the stool next to him. “Hey, bro.”

“Arch.”

“Hey Toni,” Archie calls out. “Can I get a beer?”

“What are you doing here, man?” Jughead already knows. He’s not sure why he asked. He’s been down this road before. Too many times.

“I could ask you the same question,” Archie replies as Toni sets a bottle in front of the redhead. “Thank you.” She nods and shoots Archie a knowing look that Jughead catches, making him puff out his nose and roll his eyes. 

A companionable silence settles over the pair as Archie sips on his beer and Jughead swirls a finger around the rim of his whiskey glass.

“Why didn’t you tell me, man?” Jughead asks at last, voice breaking.

“I did, Jug,” Archie sighs. “I said she was going to be there and you said you were gonna be fine!” His voice raises, filled with exasperation.

“No.” Jughead shakes his head sadly and takes another sip before turning toward his friend. “Why didn’t you tell me she’d be there alone?”

It always hurts when he sees her, but when she’s available, it’s just that much more painful. Those were the moments in time when he could right all the wrongs, when they could begin anew. But fear overtook him every time and he self-sabotaged. He knew that the longer he let himself fly this close to the sun, the more likely he was to burn.

“Shit, man.” He spins on the stool to come face to face with his best friend as a wave of panic rolls over Archie’s face. “I completely forgot.”

“Yeah, well,” he tips his glass up in salutation, “Cheers for that.”

“Jughead,” Archie sighs again. “That was my mistake and I’m sorry. I am, but I know you don’t want to be doing this right now. Quit while you’re ahead or you’ll regret it in the morning. You always do.”

“To regret deeply is to live afresh, Archie.”

Archie sighs _again._ He’s always fucking sighing. “Look, I’m not gonna pretend to know what that’s supposed to mean, so just cut the shit, please.”

Jughead remains quiet. Archie knows, probably better than anyone, the roller coaster he’s been on for the last five years. Archie’s been there for all the highs and all the lows. As was the Jones’ luck, there had been far too many of the latter. And they often started with the girl next door and ended in a bar on the southside.

The silence was deafening, Archie’s anger breaking through his normally jovial demeanor. “I’m so tired of watching you circle the drain, Jug. This isn’t you and you know it - drinking yourself stupid every time you hit a rough patch.” He looks Jughead up and down and scoffs as he shakes his head. “You’re your own worst nightmare, man. You’re turning into F.P.”

If he wasn’t his best friend, Jughead would have punched Archie square in the jaw.

“Here we go again,” Jughead seethes. “History repeating itself: a worthless drunk in need of saving and an honest man trying not to let his past drag him down.”

“That’s not fair, man. This isn’t about them, it’s about us.” Archie takes in the state of his best friend — run-down, burnt out, reeking of whiskey and regret. He looks so pitiful, Archie's anger unwillingly abates. “You’re not worthless. Or a drunk. I’m sorry I said that.” He pulls back and takes a look around. “You never have to be anything like him if you don’t want to and you know that, right?”

“It doesn’t matter, Arch. It’s fine. Just leave me alone, alright? I’ll be fine.” Jughead debates flagging Toni down for another.

“I’m not leaving until you agree to put an end to whatever the hell is going on between you guys. I saw you two tonight, and you can’t tell me that this is the way you wanted it to end.” Archie bangs on the countertop, just lightly enough not to draw any unwanted attention from the bikers surrounding them, and lets his words sink in. “The way I see it, you could end this all right now. You need each other, and everyone but you two can fucking see that. It shouldn’t be this hard to just fucking love someone.”`

“It would never work.”

Archie huffs and punches Jughead’s arm. “I don’t want to hear it! Do you even know why you do this anymore? Get your shit together. Both of you.”

Every excuse he’s ever used before is on the tip of his tongue. His first instinct is to push her away, push Archie away, push _everyone_ away. Cut and run. Preemptive and self-inflicted heartbreak is easier to deal with - it’s his modus operandi; letting himself have a little taste of true happiness until it undoubtedly gets ripped from his hands is a whole other beast.

But Archie’s sitting in the middle of the Whyte Wyrm at two in the morning telling him to stop being such a fuck-up. That he could be happy if he just let himself. The cruel hand of hope dangles in front of him and he wants to grab it so badly he aches.

When he imagines her face beaming back at him, huge smile lighting up her entire complexion, eyes shining with love for him, just as they had done tonight, it’s all too tempting. He isn’t used to getting what he wants, and this is what he has wanted more than anything for longer than he can remember.

Maybe it’s time.

Jughead doesn’t trust that his voice in that moment so he nods.

“Good.” Archie perks up. “Good. About time, man. Do you want a ride? She’s staying with us.”

“Nah, I think I need to walk it off a little bit. Clear my head.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he says as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. He searches through it and throws a few crumpled bills onto the counter. “She was asleep when I left, but just call her or something and I’m sure she’ll meet you.”

“Right. Thanks.” Jughead places both hands on the bar as he forces himself up to stand, letting his head hang low. He breathes in before he pushes off and straightens up. He reaches a hand out to Archie, stopping him. “For everything, Arch.”

They walk out of the bar side by side and Jughead bids Archie goodbye as he gets in his car. Jughead begins his trek, hoping the cold evening somehow acts as a chaser to his night. A palate cleanser. Something to cure the shock to his system he’d experienced tonight.

As if anything could ever help him recover from being with Betty Cooper.

Betty permanently occupied space in his brain. She’s stuck in his head and he can’t get her out of it. With a destination in mind, for the first time in years, he doesn’t try to stop himself from thinking of her.

***

Sleep’s a lost cause.

Betty tosses and turns for the better part of the night before she finally rips the covers off and sits upright in bed. Heaving out a sigh of frustration, she grabs her phone on the nightstand and starts to scroll through her contacts. She finds the name she’s looking for and her thumb hovers over his number, threatening to press call. When a metallic taste bursts into her mouth, she releases her lip, only now realizing how hard she’d been chewing on it.

After the night’s earlier events, thoughts of him have been all consuming. Betty can’t seem to stop herself from replaying old conversations and memories from years past over and over in her head. Overthinking every single word they’ve ever spoken to each other and hating herself for it.

Betty didn’t do this. Not normally. It’s not like her to agonize over innocent sounding syllables - thinking the words meant one thing when they really meant another. She doesn’t usually analyze every interaction down to the last detail. Except with him. She’s tired of the games they always seem to play. The heartache. Tired of it all. But not tired enough, it seems, to sleep.

For some reason they never seem to get it right. It had been three years of on and off again before he made a real go of making sure they stayed off for the past two years. They blamed timing and distance. Their families, the serpents. They blamed everything and everyone, at the time, except themselves.

The reasons don’t matter anymore. The excuses no longer seem to suffice. There’s no logical explanation for why they can’t just get their shit together. Not when he looks at her like _that_ and not when it make her _feel_ like this.

Before the party, she thought she had made a valiant effort to move on, that she could handle seeing him even though it had been years since their last encounter. When Archie casually mentioned Jughead would indeed be in attendance, she _thought_ everything would be fine. She wouldn’t cave, not this time. He wanted it to stick so she needed to start listening.

She so badly didn’t want to listen.

And then he walked right back into her life, in a suit no less. Life wasn’t fair and Betty was decidedly _not fine_. And when he looked into her eyes as he walked across the room to meet her, all the pain and suffering, the love and desire, it all came rushing back to her. She hated that he could do this. He could break her heart in two and every time, when it eventually healed, it beat for him all over again.

_He dropped her hand like it was on fire; she didn’t blame him, she felt like she was burning up, too._

_She tended to follow his lead when it came to situations like this. If he was willing to grin and bear it for the night, so was she. On the rare occasion he came out swinging, she’d get her guard up and try to return blows just as hurtful._

_And then there were the times when the highest, widest wall in the world couldn’t keep them away from each other, and they’d tumble into bed at the end of the night. Declarations of love and devotion looming over them until the morning light._

_It was because of those nights that the dawn had started to remind Betty of desolation. An empty bed, the faint smell of cigarettes. A familiar ache between her thighs. Scattered love marks all over her skin, purple welts forming on her neck, her breasts, her thighs._

_It was only when the bruises faded, any remnant of his memory gone from her skin, that she let herself cry, fingers ghosting over the areas where he had marked her. Despite their disappearance, she still remembered them so vividly._

_She shivered wondering what tonight would bring._

_She knew what she wanted. But it probably wasn’t what he wanted, so she wouldn’t let herself get sucked back in. Tonight would be different._

_She forced herself to say something. “How are you?”_

_“Better now.” She watched as Jughead silently berated himself for speaking without thinking, and her lips twitched into a half smile. It was easy to fall back into the way they used to do things. It was_ too _easy with them. Too easy to just slip into being Betty and Jughead again._

She thinks easy would be nice, easy would be wonderful, easy is exactly what it could be. She isn’t sure why it’s all so difficult.

_“So, how long are you in town for?” Jughead asked, broaching a subject that most eavesdroppers would consider a neutral topic. It was anything but._

_“I’ll be here all winter break,” Betty replied, hoping her answer elicited a positive response. Positive, in this instance, could have meant a lot of things. There was a range of reactions she’d be willing to accept that would keep the rest of the night a tame, cordial affair._

_But there was only one response she wanted and she waited with bated breath for him to make a move._

_Jughead walked two steps over to the nearby bar, leaned his elbow onto the bar top, and reached into his pocket to pull out a Zippo. He flicked the top open and closed, open and closed, open and closed. “That’s good.”_

_Betty popped her hip out to the side and placed her hand on it, the pink silk of her dress swaying as she moved. “Is it?”_

_Their eyes finally met again and Betty decided to take the in he’d given her. She walked over to stand in front of him, handing him back the reins. If he wanted something to happen tonight, he needed to make the first move. It had to be him._

_She was also hoping getting closer to him would help her gauge his reactions better. She used to be able to read his face like a book, but Betty couldn’t decipher the look she found there. She briefly thought it might be because he’d gotten better at controlling his emotions with her, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it came to her. She was worried that she’d forgotten how to read him entirely when she finally saw it - the briefest flicker of what she might foolishly call hope._

_“Yeah,” he replied huskily and let his forearm fall with his palm open. “It is.”_

_Betty looked down and understood the action for what it was — an invitation. She took another step forward and placed her hand on the bar right in front of his. “Yeah.” Her fingers walked across his open palm before she flattened her hand and trailed it back up his forearm. She came to a stop at the crook of his elbow and began rubbing the sensitive skin lightly with the pads of her fingers. “It is.”_

_She told herself she wouldn’t do this, and yet here she was, finding her way back to him._

_She’d always go back to him._

Betty throws her phone to the other end of the bed, swings her legs to the side, and hops down onto the plush carpet. She knows she won’t be able to sleep anytime soon, so she ventures out of her room for a distraction.

She stops in the entryway of the kitchen when she spots Veronica Lodge leaning forward over the sink, arms braced on either side.

“What are you doing up, V?”

Veronica spins around, hand flying to her chest, startled. “Shit, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” Betty says sheepishly as she drops into one of the chairs around the island. “Couldn’t sleep, either?”

“Um, no actually.” She pauses, straightening up, choosing her words carefully. “Archie had to run out for something.”

Betty nods her head, understanding. Veronica doesn’t need to say where he is or who he’s with; she already knows. “Well, hopefully he’ll be back soon.”

“Yeah, he should be,” Veronica confirms with a quick nod. “Never takes too long.”

“Right.” Betty shifts uncomfortably in her seat, eyes darting around the room, trying to think of a new subject to discuss.

“What’s on your mind that’s keeping you up?” Veronica was always so good at knowing when something was bothering her. Sometimes she hated how perceptive her best friend was.

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Well then I’d hate to see how you are when you’re not _fine_.” Veronica laughs gently before speaking again, tone softer and a touch more serious than before. “So this has nothing to do with your brooding, beanie-clad loverboy?”

“He’s not my loverboy, Veronica. He’s not my anything.”

Veronica scoffs. “Yeah okay, Betty. Nobody’s gonna believe that one, not by a long shot.”  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she declares, hoping that marks the end of the conversation. But this is Veronica she’s talking to so of course it won’t be the end. She’ll badger Betty until the truth come outs. But maybe that’s not a bad thing.

Suddenly, sitting in Veronica’s kitchen in the middle of the night, it hits her. She’s finally sick of hiding everything. What’s the point? Everybody knows about their unfinished business. Veronica knows their sordid history. Betty needs a way to get him out of her head. Laying in bed, running through scenarios of how the night could have gone differently certainly wasn’t working. If only she said something different, if only she hadn’t reacted so viscerally. If only, if only, if only.

“It’s just -- it’s like all my thoughts are running loose, ya know? He just jumbles them. It’s something he’s always been able to do to me. It used to help me clear my head, but now it just confuses the hell out of me.”

Veronica walks around the large island, searches through the cabinets for two wine glasses, and walks over to the refrigerator to grab an open bottle. She fills up both glasses with the last of the white wine and tosses the empty bottle into the trash before joining her best friend. “What did he do this time?”

“Not him this time,” Betty answers sadly and takes a very large sip of her drink and then sets it back on the counter. “My fault. Everything was going so well and I fucked it up.” Her elbows land on the counter and her head falls into her open hands. She drags her palms over her face and up through her hair, tugging her elastic band out of her ponytail as she goes. Her hair falls down to hide her face and the tears she knows will surely be shed.

Veronica reaches over and affectionately tucks Betty’s hair behind her ear. She lets her hand fall to her friend’s shoulder and squeezes. “Why do you guys keep doing this to yourselves?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Betty laments. “It all made sense years ago, at least I told myself it did. But then every time we saw each other, we’d forget everything and it would be great for a while and then…” Veronica squeezes her shoulder again, urging her to continue. “He told me he was doing it for me, every time, but it just hurt worse and worse. So the last time, I let him go. I tried, I really did. But being apart for so long made me realize I didn’t care anymore, I just needed him back in my life.”

“Well, did you tell him that?”

“No, it all went south before I had the chance.” Betty fights back a sob. “I wanted this time to be different. ”

“What happened?”

“I really thought this was it, V. It hadn’t felt like that since before… God, it was so _stupid._ ” She shakes her head remorsefully and wipes away tears with her thumbs. “I got jealous and said some things I shouldn’t have. I knew how he’d react and I did it anyway.”

“So that’s it? You say something stupid and it’s over? That’s not how this works, B. If it were, Archie and I wouldn’t have even lasted a week.”

“Don’t make me laugh right now,” Betty protests, a smile breaking through.

“I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think.” Veronica sips thoughtfully from her glass. “You know, all you have to do is talk to him. Honesty is always the best policy.”

“Spare me the cliches, please.”

She smiles kindly and shrugs. “Cliches are cliches for a reason. You can get back to where you used to be before all this crap. Better, even. You just gotta talk to each other. Stop letting everything else in the world dictate your happiness.” She waves her hand around, punctuating the end of her sentence, and then leans over to nudge Betty’s shoulder. “You get to decide how your story ends, Betty.”

“He’s already so insecure about us, though, one little setback is enough to send him running. And it did.”

“Betty, he never runs far.”

She reels her head back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means —” Veronica pointedly shakes her head toward her friend. “—I bet you know exactly where he’d be if you went looking for him right now.”

She doesn’t even have to think about it. She does know exactly where he’d end up tonight. “I think I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t say something to him.”

“So what are you waiting for, girl?! Go get dressed. Just tell Smithers where you’re going and he’ll drop you off. I don’t want you freezing to death on your way to a declaration of love.”

**

Betty walks through the door of Pop’s Chock’lit Shop, her eyes falling on the booth by the record player. _Their booth_. She had fallen in love with Jughead Jones in that booth. It was where she had bared her scars and he had bared his soul after a birthday party gone awry. She shouldn’t sit there, she knows it, and yet she finds herself drifting over and sliding into the side facing away from the door. She thinks she’d go nuts having to see everyone coming and going.

As it turns out, it’s driving her nuts _not_ being able to see everyone coming and going. Every time the diner’s bell rings, her entire body freezes. She can’t breathe until she turns her head to visually confirm the identity of the new customer. She’s not proud of it, but it is what it is.

She orders a vanilla milkshake from the waitress who comes over and then pulls out her phone. Her hand hovers over his name for the hundredth time that night, willing her thumb to drop so the connection can finally be made. So the conversation can begin.

Their beginnings weren’t usually hard. Betty was never surprised at the ease with which they came back together. Starting anew became second nature to them ever since Jughead had insisted “it” stick. They’d had countless beginnings.

But every beginning also had its end. It was the endings that were hard. Each was more difficult than the last, chipping away pieces of her heart every single time.

_Something felt different about tonight. Betty couldn’t remember another time when a night had started out so right, one when they had gotten along so well from the beginning. She could feel the electricity between them and tried not to crumble at his dark blue eyes boring through her. He was making her laugh, she was touching him freely, and they were getting lost in each other again. Something felt different, yes, but she should have known it was just a matter of time. That their story didn’t have a happy ending._

_They were seated at a table toward the back of the lobby, shrouded by the shadows. Jughead was bent forward in a chair, one elbow resting on his knee and the other arm extended, resting on her leg, fingers lazily rubbing her thigh. He looked up at her from behind the lock of hair that was always falling into his eyes as he spoke. Betty’s chin was propped up by her hand on the table, leaning toward him, dazzling green eyes focused only on him. They felt like the only two people in the room._

_It was the incessant buzzing of a cell phone that popped their perfect little bubble. Jughead tried ignoring it the first few times it went off, but after the fourth round of vibrations she reached her free hand out to cover his. “It’s okay, you can get it.”_

_“What if I don’t want to?”_

_“I think we both know you have to,” she responded softly._

_Jughead looked apologetic as he heaved out a sigh and dug into his pocket to retrieve the source of the intrusion - an older flip phone Betty knew he only used for serpent business. He sat back in the chair, flipped it open, and navigated through the messages. After it looked like he had gone through a few, he reached one that made him pause longer than the others, frown deepening as he read._

_“Everything okay?” Betty attempted a light, breezy tone._

_“Uh,” he started, still looking down at the phone, “Yeah.” He looked back up to her, snapped the device shut, and shoved it back into his pocket. “Nothing to worry about.”_

_“You sure?” Her hands fell to his thighs, rubbing them gently._

_“I’m sure.” He knocked his knees playfully against hers and she smiled. His hand reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear before it traveled down to the nape of her neck and over her shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth when it came to a stop. “Do you wanna get out of here?”_

_Betty trapped her lip between her teeth as she nodded bashfully. They stood and Jughead’s fingers grazed hers before his pinky hooked around her own and they both started walking toward the coat check. Nervous energy coursed through her as he handed the attendant their tickets. He turned back toward her, quickly pinning her against the wall next to the closet. One hand came to her waist and the other cupped her cheek, immediately tilting her head up to press his lips to hers softly._

_When he pulled back, she chased his lips unashamedly, and when she opened her eyes, she saw him smile as he leaned back in to kiss her again. Before their lips connected, he whispered, “God, I’ve missed you.”_

_“Ah-hem!” The young woman manning the coat check cleared her throat to get their attention, looking mildly annoyed, and they broke apart reluctantly. He took Betty’s coat and helped her into it before he shrugged on his own. They laced their hands together as they walked toward the exit._

***

Jughead’s pace slows as he approaches the glaring neon lights of Pop’s — a beacon of light and warmth in the cold, dark night. He can feel his heart threatening to burst through his chest with each step he takes toward the diner. When he gets close enough that the faceless shapes in the windows start taking form, he stops dead in his tracks.

He wasn’t expecting to see her there already, waiting for him, in their booth. He had been preparing himself for a long wait. For the possibility that she wouldn’t show up at all. He’s rooted to the spot, unable to force himself to walk the final few feet up the stairs and through the door to meet her.

He thinks about fighting it again. He could turn around right now and everything would stay exactly as it is. No chance of heartbreak. No chance of happiness, either.

Sure, he could fight, but what's the use? He knows where he will always end up, where _they_ will always end up. He needs to decide, once and for all, what it’s going to be. A final goodbye or one last beginning. One that sticks — one way or the other.

He takes a long look at the girl in the window sipping at the dregs of a milkshake; her blonde hair pulled into a low ponytail at the back of her head. He knows what it means when it’s like this, when raising her pony just a few more inches to her signature height is simply too much — she’s feeling lost and lonely. But most of all, she’s scared. Jughead knows the feeling.

_They had only been able to make it just outside of the building before he had her up against the wall again. This time it was the cold, hard exterior wall. This time he was surrounded on either side by her legs. Her head had fallen to the side, exposing the stretch of skin she knew he craved. His mouth was assaulting her neck, licking, biting, sucking every available surface, his hands everywhere, wanting to feel all of her again when a shrill ringtone broke through the panting and moaning. His head dropped back and he groaned at the interruption._

_“Go,” she chuckled and pushed back on his chest. “You can take it. I’ll be fine. Promise.”_

_“Are you sure?” She nodded and he dug the phone out. “Okay.” He leaned in for one last peck, telling her not to go anywhere before he walked off to take the call._

_He quickly glanced back at her before ducking into the alley for privacy and saw her talking to someone. He squinted to sharpen the image and thought it might be the coat check girl, but he couldn’t confirm his suspicions before the phone started ringing again. He flipped it open and began to fight the fires that inevitably popped up every time he tried to take a night off._

_The phone call was mercifully short - only a few minutes - and he hurried back to Betty, afraid she had changed her mind during his time away. At first, it seemed a ridiculous notion, but as he drew near, he could see her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. Shit. Shit shit shit._

_He approached cautiously. “Hey, everything alright?” He wasn’t sure what exactly could have transpired during his short time away, but clearly something had set her off._

_“Yeah,” she responded curtly, eyes fixed on the entrance of the building. “Everything taken care of?”_

_“Yeah.” He took a step toward her, hand outstretched, and she flinched away from him. His heart clenched in response but he tried not to let it deter him. “Betty, what’s wrong?”_

_“Nothing. I’m fine.” Her eyes betrayed her. He might have been rusty when it came to picking up her cues, but he would have had to have been blind to miss the fire behind them. “You know what, I’m actually tired so I’m just gonna head back.”_

_He scrambled to put himself between her and the door. “Was it the phone call? If you didn’t want me to take it, you could have told me. I would have ignored it…”_

_She cut him off with a hollow laugh. “Right. I’m so sure.”_

_He shook his head, confused. “Betty, of course. You know you always come first.”_

_“Wow,” she laughed again, sharply this time. “When exactly do I come first? You’ve made it abundantly clear what your priority is.”_  
_  
“You know that’s not true. I do everything for you, baby.” He fought back tears, knowing that if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. “Can you just tell me what happened? I was gone for two minutes! Please, just tell me.” He was pleading with her, unable to give up this soon. She was spiraling, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. He didn’t want this time to be over before it even started. He was terrified he’d lose out on his chance to make things right._

 _“Your friend and I had a_ lovely _little chat just now,” she revealed finally, foot tapping against the pavement._

_“What friend? Who are you talking about?” His mind raced, trying to think of who she could have run into, when he remembered the mystery woman he had spotted before. “Wait, the coat check girl?” Betty nodded. “I don’t even know her, Betty - whatever she said to you, it’s not true. I swear.”_

_“Maybe think a little bit harder, Jughead.” He couldn’t place her - sure she looked familiar, but he honestly couldn’t remember ever seeing her before. “She sure remembers you.”_

_Fuck._

_The panic on his face must have been evident. “She was very concerned. Wanted to make sure I was sober enough to know what you wanted, you know, with your reputation and all.” She waits for a rebuttal but he has none. He has nothing to say and he feels paralyzed. “Seems like you’ve accumulated quite the collection of conquests the past few years. Is that who you are now? Is that what you think I am?”_

_“No, not at all! Betty, please. Don’t do this.”_ _  
_

_“No, Jughead. I’m not doing anything. It’s you.” She shook her head in disgust. “You did this. You’ve probably slept with half the girls on the southside. The Serpent King slithers into any bed he wants, isn’t that right?” She paused to look him up and down and sneered, “I don’t even know you anymore.”_  
  
_He stepped back, her words hitting him like a MAC truck. “You don’t mean that.”_

_“God, I can’t believe I was going to let this happen again.”_

_“We weren’t together!” he pleaded. “I couldn’t just wait for you. I - I get lonely and drunk and do stupid shit, okay? I missed you, so much. What was I supposed to do? You were the one who left.”_

_“For college, Jug, not_ you _. You broke up with me, remember?” She walked forward, pressing her index finger into his shoulder, forcing him to take a step back before he lightly shook her off._

_She just had to throw it back in his face. Had to bring up the one taboo subject that was sure to squash any hope of reconciliation. He let his anger boil over, squared his jaw, and hardened his voice. “Yeah, I’m starting to remember why now.”_

_“Don’t you dare throw this back on me. You cut me off! I was doing what you wanted. I was_ trying _to move on.”_

_That was when he felt it, the familiar taste of bile rising up his throat. He refused to let her see the real effect she had on him. He wouldn’t break down in front of her, so he lashed out instead. “Right.” He held up his fingers to count. “With Joe. And Matt. And Adam… Anyone else make the list?”_

_“At least I can remember the names of the people I’ve slept with.” He felt all the air leave his lungs and he struggled to breathe for a moment. He wanted to collapse to his knees and beg her to forgive him, to forget the past five minutes had ever happened. Hell, to forget the past five years had ever happened. He wanted to go back, he wanted to do it all over. She pursed her lips and turned her head away from him. “You know what? You’ve been right all along. This would never work. We were kidding ourselves to think it would.”_

_“Yeah,” he said as he straightened up, all hope slipping through his fingers. “Glad you’ve finally realized it. I knew you’d give up on us, it was just a matter of time.”_

_Before she had the chance to respond, he turned and stalked away from her._

_As he turned the corner he heard Betty cry out behind him, and he froze. Instead of listening to his heart and rushing back to scoop her up in his arms, to whisper apologies and promises into her ear, he cursed and slammed the side of his fist against the wall. He made his way to his bike and started the ignition, the sound ripping through the quiet of the night, and set off to a place where he could drown his sorrows._

***

The bell dings, signalling his entrance. He’d finally worked up enough courage to walk through the door when he sees her stand up abruptly. Scared she’s about to leave, he bounds over to her, his sudden appearance next to her making her jump.

“Sorry,” he says as his hands reach out to steady her. His voice is timid when he asks,  “You weren’t leaving, were you?”

“No!” she answers immediately. “I was - um - changing sides. So I could see the door,” she finishes lamely.

“Oh.” He breathes a sigh of relief and fights a smile. “Good. That’s - um, good... Can I sit?”

She nods and slips back into the same side she had just gotten up from. She’s not surprised when Jughead slides in next to her instead of on the other side. He folds one leg up onto the booth, removes the beanie from his head, and turns to face her fully. She lowers her head and pivots in the seat, her hands clasped together tightly over her lap. He works her palms open, threading their fingers together in each hand. He kisses her left hand and then her right before lowering them back down again as quiet settles over the booth.

“There’s no excuse for how I acted tonight,” Betty says at last, meeting his gaze. “We weren’t together, I had no claim over you, and it’s none of my business. I was jealous and hurt and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“No.” He shakes his head vehemently, bringing his hand up to her cheek. “It’s my fault. I fucked up; I never should have started this shit in the first place. I’m an idiot, Betty, I...” He trails off and brings his other hand to her cheek to tilt her head up. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I want you. I _love_ you. If I could do it all over again, I know I’d go back to you. I’d put an end to all this misery before it even started.”

“I love you, too,” she replies as tears begin to fall. “You're stuck in my head and I can't get you out of it, Juggie. I’ll never stop loving you.” She presses her forehead to his. His hands move to cup her neck, thumbs stroking her jaw. “Can we stop hurting each other? Please?”

He nods fervently, feeling tears splash onto his skin, and he’s not sure if they’re his or Betty’s. He kisses her long and slow before vowing, “Never again.”

She pulls back to rest her forehead against his briefly before cradling his hands in her own and dropping her head to his shoulder, slinking down into him. He drapes his arm around her to pull her in close and presses a kiss to the crown of her head. He closes his eyes and breathes her in, promising himself that no matter what, this time, they’d get it right. This time, their beginning wouldn’t have to have an end.


End file.
